


The Secret History of Armand Malfoy

by HeavenlyGingerlily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenlyGingerlily/pseuds/HeavenlyGingerlily
Summary: In the last few days of her eighth year at Hogwarts Hermione Granger discovers a piece of history that will change her life. The Malfoy family had a secret and Draco Malfoy was prepared to go to any lengths to keep it.Dramione set in Hogwarts ‘eighth’ year and in part eleventh century Britain.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 39
Kudos: 270





	1. Prophecy

* * *

“You can’t read that Granger! ”

‘Gobsmacked’, that was the only word that would have adequately described her reaction to _that_ pronouncement and the only possible cause of her stunned silence. _What right did he have to tell her what she could and could not read?_

“I think you will find Malfoy that I can?” She told the blond as he stalked towards her. She began to back up casting a non verbal sticking charm on the book for good measure, an insurance against him prizing it from her hand.

“You don’t understand,” he began to clarify, “I’m begging you, please don’t read that.”

* * *

Early that day...

Hermione was bored. Her exams were over, all she had left to do was to bide her time until graduation, yet it seemed she could not even do that without courting trouble. She had perused the library earlier in the day hoping for a book that would catch her imagination but, for perhaps the first time in her life, the library held no appeal. She was a ball of restless energy, so when Parvati suggested she have her fortune told she decided she was up for the laugh. A reading from the resident sibyl was a Hogwarts’ tradition, _apparently_ , that all graduating students undertook. She had always maintained that divination was bunk but she had, none the less, joined the other seventh and eighth year students waiting for Sybill Trelawney to read her future.

Idly chatting to those around her she waited her turn. She watched the Malfoy heir confidently take his seat before the seer, _he was independently wealthy, he had avoided Azkaban, surely he could look forward to a better future?_ She speculated as she considered him.

“Do you think she will tell him he will have a future of counting his galleons and gracing the cover of Witch Weekly?” Parvati asked lightheartedly.

“Witch Weekly?” Hermione questioned, raising her brows at her fellow Gryffindor.

“Come on Hermione, you can’t tell me you can’t see how handsome he is.” Parvati had challenged.

Hermione didn’t immediately answer, _striking may be that, white blond hair is an uncommon feature even the the Wizarding World_ , she had thought, _but was he handsome?_ She wasn’t sure she had really looked at him in years. She had been content that he no longer tormented her and had just left him be. So caught up in her reverie she had not at first noticed Malfoy’s violent reaction, until his chair had hit the floor and he bolted.

_What had he been told_? Hermione internally questioned in the screeching silence that followed his departure. Though they were not friends they had managed a level of civility this year and she hoped for his sake it was not bad news. _Malfoy couldn’t seem to get a break,_ she mused genuinely sorry if Professor Trelawney had told him something dismal. He had looked as if the seer had foretold his death. That thought troubled her more than she cared to admit. _Still_ , she reminded herself forcefully, _Divination was a load of rubbish._

Finally it was Hermione’s turn and she sat with surprisingly more trepidation than she expected.

“Miss Granger,” Sybill Trelawney greeted, “I am surprised to see you. I had not thought you a believer.” The older witch stated quite frankly. Not wishing to be rude Hermione responded:

“But it’s a Hogwarts’ tradition Professor, a rite of passage.”

“So it is my dear, so it is.” Trelawney conceded, as her focus shifted towards the crystal ball before her.

Hermione watched as a pall of blue grey smoke coalesced inside the glass globe. Trelawney said nothing for the longest time as her eyes rolled back behind her thick lensed glasses.

“You will have a lover who you will be afraid to acknowledge. Your love will mirror that of his ancestor. It will be as great a love as Eawynn and Armand and it will change the Wizarding World. Together there is nothing you and he can not achieve, if you open your heart to him and put aside all that you think you know.”

Seemly coming out of her trance like state the sibyl turned to Hermione and smiled benignly.

“How exciting, you will be truly blessed and truly loved.”

“Oh!’Hermione responded somewhat surprised by this prophecy. It was not at all what she had expect.

* * *

That evening there was a huge buzz around the Gryffindor common room as the soon to be ex-students compared notes about the future the sibyl had foretold. Ginny was excited to have been told she would have all her heart’s desires. Harry had been told he would have the family he had always longed for. Ron, the seer claimed, would have wealth beyond measure and so the claims went on.Hermione supposed after all it _had_ been fun, her friends were largely in good cheer.

“Poor Malfoy though,” Parvati piped up, “he looked like he had been told the Dark Lord would return.”

“You don’t suppose...” Harry began.

“Of course not Harry,” Hermione reassured, “besides you don’t really believe any of this stuff do you?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” he confessed, “she did after all predict my fate.”

Hermione couldn’t dispute that but still she suspected that for every genuine prophecy the woman had ever shared, ten more were nothing better than clever phrasing and educated guess work.

“So what did she tell you Hermione, you’ve been strangely quiet,” Ginny challenged.

“Oh I’m going to have a great love affair,” she admitted, rolling her eyes as if it were blatantly ridiculous.

“Ohhh!” Ginny said, brightening up a look of mischief in her eyes, “so any clues who this lover might be?”

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

“Oh come on Hermione spill,” Ginny encouraged.

“Merlin Ginny you are positively encourageable, okay she said I wouldn’t want to acknowledge him and that it would be a love like some ancestor; Eawynn and Armand-whoever they are?” Hermione told her.

Ginny tilted her head to one side considering this new information,

“Some one you wouldn’t want to acknowledge? Have you been having a secret affair with the enemy Hermione?” The red head asked teasingly.

“Oh no! My secret affair with Malfoy has been exposed,” Hermione pretended melodramatically, “we were star-crossed lovers all along,” she continued with faux alarm as she played alone with Ginny’s little narrative.

Both girls dissolved into giggles at the mere thought of it.

“Well Armand Malfoy was his ancestor, so that would make sense.” Luna interjected, in her usual dreamy way.

Suddenly Hermione didn’t find things quite so funny anymore, as she recalled the horror on Malfoy’s face.

“I need to go to the...”

“Library?” Her friends finished for her in unison.

“Um, yes...I...yes I need to...”

“Look something up?” Harry interrupted, an indulgent smile splitting his face.

Hermione huffed but took it all in good spirit.

“Don’t be too long,” Ginny called after her, “remember there’s a party in the Hufflepuff common room.”

“Yes, party,” Hermione acknowledged over her shoulder as she left, only partly cognisant of what she had agreed to.

* * *

The library was deserted, her feet echoed in the hollow space. She almost felt nostalgic, she would have liked to have taken the time to indulge her recollections but a growing sense of anxiety drove her to find out who Eawynn and Armand were.

An hour later Hermione was still no wiser. Though she could find reference to Armand Malfoy and his wife Emma there was no reference to Eawynn. So it must be another Armand,she deduced, returning to the catalogue to begin another search. Further searches of the reference section proved fruitless. No mention of the couple appeared in any reference work of myth or legend, nothing in the histories of the sacred twenty eight. She was about to give up when inspiration stuck. _Could they be fictional?_ She had assumed not but Trelawney’s words didn’t preclude that possibility.

Knowing that her friends would be waiting she quickly search the catalogue again.

“Yes!” She gave a small celebratory fist pump as she saw the title. ‘Eawynn and Armand’ it was in the romantic fiction section. Well she supposed that made sense and she cursed herself for not looking there first.

The library was catalogued by subject so she merely need ‘R’ for romance.

“Finally there you are,” she told the book as if it were sentient.

So focused on retrieving the book she had not heard the blond who now approached her.

“You can’t read that Granger! ”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gobsmacked-informal British English word meaning astonished.


	2. Eawynn and Armand

‘Gobsmacked’, that was the only word that would have adequately described her reaction and the only possible cause of her stunned silence. _What right did he have to tell her what she could and could not read?_

“I think you will find Malfoy that I can?” She told the blond as he stalked towards her. She began to back up casting a non verbal sticking charm on the book for good measure, an insurance against him prizing it from her hand.

“You don’t understand I’m begging you, please don’t read that.”

“Pardon?” She asked wondering if it was possible to be more astonished than she already was.

“Please don’t read it Granger,”

She wasn’t sure she could speak, Malfoy had just spoken two words that she would have bet every knut she owned were not in his vocabulary.

“Why?”She asked struggling to understand Malfoy’s hitherto unknown demeanour.

“I can’t say,” he admitted.

“Well then...” she concluded as she began to walk away, feigning disinterest.

“ No Granger I literally can’t say,” he continued looking increasingly agitated.

“You’re magically tongue tied?” She realised. _What the hellcould be in this book that was so vital he could not speak of it?_ She continued internally.

“Every Malfoy heir is given this knowledge at their coming of age but they can not speak of it.”

“Is it dangerous?” She suddenly worried holding out the book like a hot potato, unable to discard it because it was still pasted to her hand.

“Not really, I don’t think, at least not to you,” he concluded almost as if he were speaking to himself.

“Then I don’t...”

“Just put it back on the shelf, please,” he pleaded.

She furrowed her brows at him, her curiosity now so peeked she knew she would have to read it. Even if she did not do so now. Even if she returned to the library in secret.

As if he had read her thoughts he asked again;

“Please put it back, forget you have seen it, leave well alone.”

“I’m know-it-all all Granger remember. You can’t tell me something so mysterious and expect me to give it up!” She tired to tease, hoping he might tell her more.

He looked back at her stoney faced. His jaw tightened, a clear sign of his rising temper.

“Do as you will but be warned nothing good will ever come of it.” With that dire warning he walked away leaving Hermione with the green leather bound book still gripped in her hand and wrestling with her conscience.

* * *

Knowing that her friends would come looking for her if she didn’t return soon Hermione had decided to take the book with her. She didn’t want to risk it disappearing but she decided she would think carefully before she read it. She worried that Malfoy might be harmed if she did and she would not have that on her conscience no matter their past.

Carefully placing the book in her trunk, warding and locking it with the strongest spells in her arsenal, she began to prepare for the Hufflepuff party. Ginny had insisted that she do Hermione’s hair and make up. For some reason the Hufflepuffs had decided on a knights andfair maidens theme and no house clichés. Of course unlike muggles, all that a witch needed to do was a few transfiguration spells on her clothes to be in costume. Ginny had opted for a gown in pale aqua, Hermione had chosen black.

“You can’t wear black you will look like a widow not a maiden.” Ginny complained.

“Well what colour do you propose?” Hermione challenged.

Ginny waved her wand with a mischievous smirk. Hermione’s gown morphed into a deep green. Perhaps a shade deeper than Slytherin green but green nonetheless.

“I can’t wear green!” Hermione explained in exasperation.

“Yes you can,” her friend chastised, “it suits you and remember no house clichés!”

“Ahh!” Hermione complained though secretly she had to admit the green did suit her. The dress was beautiful, the bodice embroidered with an intricate pattern of intertwined knots and it wasn’t Slytherin green after all. “Oh what the hell!” She concluded, deciding to be a rebel and go with it.

“That’s the spirit, now let’s do something with your hair.”

Half an hour later Hermione’s hair was formed into an intricately braided crown. She looked like a princess. In the end she was thankful not to have dressed in house colours it would have only led to taunts of Gryffindor Princess.

“Do you think everyone will be there tonight Gin?” She asked thinking back to her earlier encounter with Malfoy, “even the Slytherins?”

“Yeah, they are much more humble these days, so I guess so. Why?”

“Oh!, nothing I just wondered.” Hermione answered, trying to appear nonchalant.

Though Ginny looked unconvinced she dropped it, at least for now.

* * *

Descending to the common room Hermione was thrilled to see Harry, Ron, Neville and the other boys in their armour. With surcoats emblazoned with various familial coats of arms. Merlin they looked handsome. She thought to herself as she smiled at her friends.

“Well come along Sir Harry,” Hermione held out her arm boldly leading the way.

* * *

The Hufflepuff commons were a myriad of colour and burnished metal as the Gryffindors arrived. There was a preponderance of Hufflepuffs, as far as Hermione could tell if the Slytherins were coming they had not arrived yet. She almost felt relieved after her earlier altercation with Malfoy. What was also apparent was there was enough booze to launch an armada. She could almost feel the hangovers they would have in the morning.

A couple of firewhiskey’s down and Hermione was already more relaxed than normal. The alcohol was having its usual damping effect on her inhibitions and she had already hit the dance floor with Ginny and Luna.

She wasn’t sure when they had arrived but as she twirled around she saw Malfoy glowering at her from the edge of the room. She felt frozen by his stare and she stumbled to a stop. He didn’t break eye contact. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down her spine, she knew he was still angry but she determined he would not spoil her fun. Turning back to her friends she resumed dancing.

It was only moments before she felt a hard chest press up close behind her, emboldened by the alcohol flowing through her veins she leaned back into him. His scent was distinctly masculine, earthy rosewood and some sort of musk she couldn’t quite place. Breathing it in gave her a very different shiver to the one she had experienced moments before. His warm breath brushed the shell of her ear and she felt heat pool between her thighs.

“Where is it Granger?” He drawled his voice in a low register that she was sure was the most delicious thing she had ever heard. She stilled, coming to her senses this was Malfoy she was talking about. _Was that his new tactic?_ She wondered, _seduce her into complying with his wishes._

“Oh no!” She warned him in a sultry purr, “that is not going to work Malfoy.” Making it clear she knew his game.

“Are you sure Granger?” He challenged as he spun her round to face him.

He was dressed in a startling cerulean blue that made his eyes stand out like jewels. _Merlin he’s handsome_. Hermione realised Parvati was right, he would look well on the cover of Witch Weekly, when he wasn’t glowering at someone. All of a sudden Hermione wasn’t so sure of herself after all.

“No,” she whispered hardly believing she had admitted that.

He didn’t say anything, looking at her in contemplative silence he ran a index finger down the inside of her forearm and across her wrist, watching as goosebumps trailed in the wake of his touch.

“This is not over Granger,” he told her and he walked away.


	3. Forfeit

As the party went on the crowd thinned some found quiet corners for passionate embraces, others simply retired. Soon there was only a small crowd of eighth years who were engaging in progressively more riotous party games. Malfoy, Blaise, Harry and Ron were engaged in a drinking game when the Ravenclaws decided to challenge the others to a game of Sphinx, a riddle game. To up the stakes, Terry Boot suggested that the winner could insist that any other losing player paid a forfeit. There was general agreement to the terms but Ginny validly pointed out that if they all played it would take too long.

“Then we should nominate a player from each house. Two male and two female.” Boot proposed.

It was quite clear to Hermione that the expectation was the forfeit would be something of a risky or sexual nature. Whilst she wasn’t really a prude she wasn’t agreeing unless she knew exactly who she was playing with.

“I nominated Hermione for Gryffindor,” Ron offered drunkenly.

“Oh nice one idiot,” Ginny said, as she hit her brother across the head, “what if the forfeit is a sexual act!”

“Nothing more than a snog unless it’s consensual!” Boot, who seemed to be chairing the event, added.

“Well Little Miss Iron Knickers wouldn’t even go that far,” Malfoy goaded. “Dare you Granger!” He smirked.

“Alright,” she said calmly, “if the Gryffindor’s agree, I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to to beat you again Malfoy,” she finished her eyes shining with challenge.

“What if I want to play?” Blaise asked petulantly, “I wouldn’t mind a piece of that pert little arse.” He laughed wiggling his brows at Hermione.

“Next time,” Malfoy told him giving him a significant look.

“What about you?” Harry asked turning to Terry Boot.

“No I think I will referee,”

“Coward,” Blaise coughed behind his hand.

“I’ll do it,” Padma offered to be the Ravenclaw representative.

“Okay,” Terry agree as the only other Ravenclaw remaining,“so just a Hufflepuff then, Susan?”

“Doesn’t it have to be a boy? I’m sure Padma and I should have a choice too!” Hermione reminded them raising a brow at Malfoy as if to say, _don’t assume I would chose you!_

The players chosen, the rules agreed and a wand oath each just to ensure no one reneged, the game began.

Hufflepuff’s Wayne Hopkins didn’t last long and, despite her Ravenclaw credentials, Hermione’s riddle;

Voiceless it cries,

Wingless flutters,

Toothless bites,

Mouthless mutters,

which she had remembered from from ‘The Hobbit’ caught Padma out, _perhaps it was because it was a muggle reference,_ Hermione thought charitably.

That left just Hermione and Malfoy. By now Hermione was getting worried they had continued to drink throwing back a shot at the conclusion of each round, a part of the rules apparently, as a consequence her brain was becoming increasingly addled.

“So Granger,” Malfoy looked at her with glee as if he had the most challenging riddle known to man;

“I have heard of a something-or-other, growing in its nook, swelling and rising, pushing up its covering. Upon that boneless thing a cocky-minded young woman took a grip with her hands; with her apron a lord’s daughter covered the tumescent thing.”

_Swelling, growing, boneless_ , Hermione blushed, _it couldn’t be?_ She swallowed. Many around her, thinking they had solved the riddle, began to chuckle. Waiting for the pretty Gryffindor to say what they assumed the answer to be. _It couldn’t be that, he was just trying to embarrass her, but what else could it be?_

“Come on Hermione,” Ron insisted, “Say it we all know what it is!”

_Shit_ , Hermione could feel the sweat pearling on her brow, _she was going to lose._ She knew it wasn’t what they all thought but she was now so distracted, so impaired by the alcohol she couldn’t think. Malfoy smirked knowingly at her daring her to say the word.

“Damn it!” She hissed, “a penis” she offered waiting for him to gloat.

“What was that Granger? I didn’t quite catch that.” He asked, feigning deafness whilst struggling to hold back the mirth.

_Bastard_ , she inwardly intoned, _he just wants to make me say it again._

“Penis!” She yelled at him.

“Wrong Granger, now your forfeit,” he crowed.

“Hang on a minute, you haven’t won yet, what’s the answer,” Ron challenged.

“You don’t know Weasley?” Malfoy asked in faux surprise, pausing for effect, “dough, it rises, it grows, it pushes at its covering and you grip it as you knead it.”

“Cocky Bastard,” Ron grit out.

Hermione slapped her forehead, _of course, damn him!_

“So Granger your forfeit” he said wiggling his brows.

“Alright Malfoy get on with it.”

They were all expecting something lewd, no one expected what Malfoy said.

“For your forfeit I want you to make an unbreakable vow!”

“What!” Hermione burst out in utter disbelief as those around her looked at the Slytherin in horror.

“You can’t be serious mate?” Blaise interjected.

“No, I am deadly serious,” he said turning to Hermione, “I begged you, have you looked at it?”

The rest of the room looked on in mute fascination with no clue what the pair were talking about. Hermione shook her head.

“Then vow that you won’t,” he insisted.

“No,” she said vehemently.

“You gave your wand oath Granger,” he all but growled.

She glared at him. He had played her for a fool what ever was in that book he was desperate to keep it from her she wanted more than anything now to know who Eawynn and Armand were.

“I will agree to never open it without you.” She offered.

“Deal!’

Hermione worried he had agreed too quickly.

“Potter do the honours,” Malfoy said, holding out his right hand for Hermione to take.

“I don’t think so, not unless I know what this is about,” Harry responded sticking his hands firmly in his pockets.

“It’s alright Harry, you don’t need to know,” Hermione told him, she could almost feel the wave of astonishment coming off Malfoy that she had essentially told Harry to mind his own business.

Turning back towards her Malfoy held out his hand again but before she could take it he drop it as if something important had just occurred to him;

“What’s your full name Granger?”

As she prepared to answer she realised how little she really knew this young man before her and how little, he in turn knew her.

“Hermione Jean,” she told him, matter of fact.

“Hermione Jean,” he repeated, in that low register as he rolled her name of his tongue. Hermione was sure her heart quickened at the sound.

“And you?” She enquired her voice coming out as more of a squeak.

“Draco Lucius.”

She nodded in acknowledgement not daring to risk her voice again.

“Shall we?” He asked quirking a sardonic brow.

Hermione raised her right hand and he took it in his own. There was something strangely intimate about holding his hand this way. Kneeling, face to face, in a mirror of the marriage ceremony. As it had done before her skin pebbled at his touch and she couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her as they locked eyes with one another.

“Harry?” She questioned.

“Hermione do you know what you’re doing?” Harry asked concern heavy in his voice.

“Yes!” She stated simply.

Harry touched his wand to their joined hands and they began;

“Do you Hermione Jean Granger agree to never read the book ‘Eawynn and Armand’ except in the presence of myself?” Malfoy intoned carefully.

“I agree,”

“And do you agree that should we ever read it you will never divulge what you have learnt. Even unto death and beyond,”

She paused for a moment before replying, surprised by this second point of the vow,

“I agree.” She said solemnly, watching as the red strands of the spell spread from Harry’s wand, entwining their hands and binding the promise that neither could now break. She might have expected him to drop her hand now but he forestalled pulling her towards him so he could whisper in her ear, “thank you,” he whispered, as he place a gentle chaste kiss on her cheek. He moved to walk away. Hermione however refused to let him go, she needed answers.

“May I have a word with you? In private.” She requested.

They moved to a quiet corner of the room where they would not be overheard.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione rounded on him, “why forbid me the right to read it but allow everyone else knowledge of the title. Surely they will all run off to read it wondering what all this was about.”

“They won’t,” he said with surprising confidence, “they can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to Hermione’s riddle was wind.
> 
> I made the game Sphinx up, if it exists I’m not aware of it.


	4. ‘Nothing you can do will prevent this.’

“Shit Draco that was some seriously heavy stuff,” Blaise commented, as they made there way back to their common room. “Is this something to do with what Trelawney said?”

Draco knew Blaise was angling for information but he would have to remain ignorant.

“Sorry mate I really can’t say.” He offered as nonchalantly as he could manage.

In truth nonchalant was the last thing Draco felt. For a large part of the last 24 hours Draco had been terrified. He thought back now to what the sibyl had told him;

‘ _You will love a witch who will break your bounds and destroy the purity of your house. She will beEawynn to your Armand. Nothing you can do will prevent this.’_

He had not known then who this witch was but he knew all he needed to do was wait. Wait to see who would retrieved the book because he knew that only she would be able to. When he had seen who that witch was he had been tempted to just give in. He had never admitted it to a soul but he thought Granger was beautiful and then when he had seen her that evening, when she had danced so closely to him, he had been sorely tempted to accept the prophetess’s words that there was, ‘nothing you can do to prevent this,’ but damn it he needed to try. His family name had taken a huge blow after the war and he was determined to stop it from being tarnished further. But he recognised this would require keeping a dangerous secrets out of the beautiful Gryffindor’s hands.

He knew he needed to get Granger to put the book back. He might have outmanoeuvred her for now but he recognised that she was a brilliant witch and he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t find some way of circumventing the vow they had made. He knew her curiosity was peeked, could he find a way to tell her some part of what she wanted to know? Perhaps if he could stem her curiosity he could protect his family’s damaged reputation.

“Damn it,” he said out loud.

“Alright there mate?” Blaise said showing concern for one of his oldest friends.

“Honesty, I’m really not sure.” Draco responded stoically.

He was conflicted. Draco would have freely admitted that he was attracted to Granger. He had always enjoyed verbally sparring with her, even as an eleven year old. As the petite brunette had grown into womanhood he had had to confront the realisation that she was actually gorgeous but, like some muggle born goddess, she was untouchable. There could never be a way he could ever be with her, no matter what he might covertly desire.

Now he had been told, not just that it was possible but, that it was inevitable. He was confused, though he knew he would destroy over a thousand years of tradition if he accepted what the seer had said, the rewards...well they were tempting.

* * *

Although Hermione had agree never to read the book herself she had _not_ agreed not to allow someone else to read it to her! Ginny was already beyond curious about what was going on, she didn’t need much encouragement when Hermione asked her if she would read the book.

“I’m desperate to know who they were.” She told Ginny. “Also I’m sure Malfoy is hiding something.”

“This is to do with the prophecy isn’t it? Malfoy is the one isn’t he? The lover you won’tacknowledge?” Ginny questioned being serious for once, “you weren’t joking were you? Was there really something between the two of you?”

“No, of course not,” Hermione looked at her friend incredulously.

“But is it him?”

“I have no idea Ginny,” she said in exasperation.

“Would you want it to be?” Ginny asked her in all seriousness.

“What do you mean?” Hermione questioned, as if it wasn’t entirely obvious. Ginny clearly recognised that her friend had not immediately said ‘no’. 

“I watched you with him, watched the way you interacted with each other. Believe me when I tell you Hermione he is the one and, though you might not wish to acknowledge it, you want him to be.”

Hermione wondered how undignified she had looked, with her jaw hanging open, as Ginny told her this. Hermione had no words she didn’t want to think about it, not now, not ever, neither did she want to think about how she had shivered at his touch.

“The book,” she said urgently changing the subject, not willing to talk about it anymore, “I want you to read it to me.”

“Alright,” Ginny agreed, suddenly more subdued than Hermione had seen her since the end of the war.

Retrieving the book from her trunk, Hermione handed it over to Ginny. Sitting herself down cross legged on her bed. Hermione closed her eyes and waited. Nothing happened;

“Ginny?” She opened her eyes looking at the redhead in surprise.

“I can’t open it, no matter where I put my fingers the pages just won’t part.”

“So that was what he had meant,” Hermione concluded, though she was in fact talking to herself.

“Who meant what?” Ginny pushed.

“Malfoy, when I asked him if he was concerned others would read it he said; ‘they can’t’”

_Damn it Malfoy,_ she inwardly cursed, knowing he had outmanoeuvred her. Tomorrow, she determined, she would return the book to the library and see if Pince could tell her anything about the ancient tome or where she might find out about Eawynn and Armand.

* * *

Hermione entered the library the next morning and immediately sought the librarians help.

“Madam Pince,” she asked quietly, “can you help me find information on this couple,” she held out the green tome to indicate the title. “This book seems to be under some enchantment and I am unable to read it.”

Madam Pince let out a long suffering sigh;

“You are the sixth student to enquire about this subject this morning!” She told her in a clipped tone, “though I am surprised you were even able to retrieve that volume,” she continued furrowing her brow. “It is as you suspected, enchanted.”

“In what way is it enchanted Madam Pince?” Hermione questioned as politely a she could knowing the librarian‘s patience was wearing thin.

“It can only be opened by those to whom it pertains, and as most to whom it pertains are long since dead I doubt it has been opened in centuries.” The librarian informed her adding as an afterthought, “though if you are determined you might ask Mr. Malfoy for his assistance. The book is about his ancestor, so I assume it would pertain to him.”

_Shit_ , Hermione thought realising just how well Malfoy had out played her.

“But is there anything else in the library, anything at all about this couple?” Hermione asked desperately.

“You might try looking up the royal house of Alfred the Great or the Lady of Mercia,” the old witch suggested, although she looked doubtful.

“Thank you Madam Pince,” Hermione said as she made to walk away.

“Miss Granger,” the librarian called after her in a strangled voice, “I assume you are about to return that book.”

_Damn_ , Hermione thought she had not intended to return it, though she dare not open it, she didn’t want to allow it to reach Malfoy’s hands. Somehow she sensed physical possession of the book gave her some leverage. Now she would have to put it back.

“Yes of course,” she replied quietly.

* * *

He knew Granger would return to the library eventually. She would be determined to find out who the mysterious couple were. So once again Draco set out to wait for her. He didn’t have to wait long. Sequestered behind a stake of magical encyclopaedias, hidden from view but with a clear sight of the doors and the librarians desk, he saw the petite brunette enter the library and speak to the librarian. He could not make out their words but it was clear from Pince’s shake of the head and Granger dejected body language, that the Gryffindor was disappointed.

He noted that she had brought the book with her, _good_ , he thought. He almost fist pumped the air when he heard Pince, in a stage whisper, insist that Hermione put the book back. He watch carefully as a disgruntled Granger marched towards the ‘R’ aisle. Draco set off to stalk her.

As he caught up with her she had found the spot, but she was clearly thinking of some way to avoid the inevitable.

“Just put it back Granger,” he told her quietly not meaning to startle her. She didn’t move for a moment. He stepped closer. “It will do you no good,” he reiterated.

“Why does it only open for those to whom it pertains? And why did you think it pertained to me?” She asked without forewarning.

He scoffed, unsurprised that she had work so much out.

“I can’t tell you Granger, for the nth time just leave it.”

She sighed reluctantly lifting the volume towards its shelf. Draco watched her, relief begin to settle on him, but then she stalled as if she might change her mind. Panicked Draco reached out to take the book from her, realising too late he had made a mistake.

* * *


	5. Trust

The library faded around her. Hermione felt as if she had fallen into a pensieve. As soon as Malfoy’s hand had touched the book she had felt the pull of magic and she was powerless to resist it.

Her feet landed on a solid limestone floor. She was dimly aware that Malfoy was beside her but it was the scene before her that drew her attention. Two men one golden the other white blond stood before her in informal conversation. They were completely at ease with each other warming their hands before a brazier, the dim light of the torches casting flickering shadows around them.

“I saw it Guillaume an enormous obscurus, it tore off the gates of the burh throwing my men aside as if they were straw men.”

“And you wish to investigate?” The golden haired man, Guillaume asked.

“An unknown obscurus means potentially a powerful muggle-born witch or wizard...”

“And would this be a threat to our plans Armand?”

“I was hoping this obscurus could be a potential asset. These people see magic as the work of the devil. They would never accept a witch or wizard’s help. Even if the individual could be trained to manage their magic.” The white blond responded.

“Alright Armand, but be careful you can not afford to reveal you are a wizard. I can not afford to be seen to be colluding with a wizard not with the Pope as my sponsor and ally.”

“I will be on my guard,”

The scene faded, the library came back into focus.

* * *

Draco banged his head against the shelf behind him, “stupid, stupid, stupid,” he punctuated each word with a bang of his head.

“That was Armand Malfoy,” Granger said ignoring Draco’s self abuse, ”what’s going on Malfoy. What was that?”

“I can’t tell you,” he told her grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Well what can you tell me?” She all but yelled at him.

“Keep your voice down Granger.” He hissed,

“This isn’t funny anymore Malfoy, whatever this is involves me and you are wilfully keeping things from me.” She told him.

“What did Trelawney tell you Granger?” He asked seemingly ignoring what she had said.

“She...none of your businesses.” She replied, suddenly feeling awkward in his presence.

“Well there we have it then, shall we both agree to mind our own business.” He suggested and started to walk away.

“You can do this?” She said seething.

“Then tell me what she said,” he all but dared her.

“I can’t,” she replied stubbornly.

“Was it about me Granger?” He challenged

“I don’t know but it was definitely about them,” she waved her hand towards the book. “Can I ask you something? Could I have opened the book if we had not taken the unbreakable vow?”

“Yes,”

“Then that means something in that book pertains to me,” she deduced. “What did Trelawney tell _you_?” She challenged

“Oh no! Ladies first, I’ll share if you will,” he teased.

“I don’t trust you, you won’t tell me.” She said.

“Then I guess we will just have to leave it,”

He watch as she bit her lip as she struggled with indecision.

“Alright then but you go first,” she decided.

“Well what if I don’t trust you?” He asked raising a brow at her.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake this is ridiculous!” She exclaimed.

For some reason, perhaps it was that appealing little pout she now had on her lips, Draco decided to trust her. Certain that if he showed good faith and went first she would tell him the future Trelawney had forecast.

‘You will love a witch who will break your bounds and destroy the purity of your house. She will beEawynn to your Armand. Nothing you can do will prevent this.’ He quoted watching her face carefully as she took in what he had said.

She paled, for a moment Draco worried that she might not share after all but then she seemed to steal herself.

“You will have a lover who you will be afraid to acknowledge. Your love will mirror that of his ancestor. It will be as great a love as Eawynn and Armand and it will change the Wizarding World. Together there is nothing you and he can not achieve, if you open your heart to him and put aside all that you think you know.” Hermione repeated before blushing furiously.

Draco swallowed deeply. His Adam’s apple giving a pronounce bob as he assimilated this new information. He had surmised she was the witch Trelawney had referred to but now she had all but confirmed it. Neither of them spoke of it but she must now surely realise he was the lover she would be afraid to acknowledge.

They stared awkwardly at each other for an indeterminate length of time. It was Hermione who broke first.

“So is the book some type of pensieve?” She asked him returning it to the shelf.

“I’m not sure, it‘s over a thousand years old.” He admitted.

She stilled, clearly contemplating if she dare say something.

“Can we read it?” She asked more in hope than expectation.

He shook his head.

“It’s a romance novel Draco how bad can it be?”

Draco wasn’t sure if she realised she had used his given name. He was so surprised he didn’t answer and to his greater astonishment she didn’t push him to respond.

“Well I suppose I should go. Are you sure we should leave this here?” She asked.

“It’ll be fine no one else can read it.” He reminded her.

“Oh yes...of course...well then I’ll see you around then.” She stuttered awkwardly as she retreated.

He couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his face as he wondered when she’d remember that she was intending to do some research in the library.

* * *

Hermione hadn’t made it far when she remembered why she had gone to the library in the first place. Groaning she turned with the intention of going back but then she thought better of it. Not sure she could cope with seeing Malfoy again so soon, deciding she needed time to think, she spun around again and marched off back towards the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione sat in front of the fire place, the hearth was black, it was a long time since it had been cold enough to need a fire. They were deep into June and Hermione realised in a sudden panicked that there were only 21 days of her Hogwarts career left and she needed to make some choices. _Could she afford this issue with Malfoy to detract from what she needed to do to prepared for her life post Hogwarts?_ Though her logical brain told her to give it up and get on with life a part of her didn’t want to let it go. She wanted to know who Eawynn was, she wanted to know why Malfoy was so determined to protect the knowledge in that book. She had realised quickly, drawing on what she already knew of Armand Malfoy, that the memory she had seen earlier was a conversation between Draco’s ancestor and Guillaume of Normandy aka William the Conqueror.Was the Conqueror also a wizard or was it merely that wizards and muggles work more closely together in the 11th Century. Did the first Norman king simply keep a wizard amongst is closest advisors? This earlier period of history, before the statute of secrecy, was not part of the Hogwarts‘ curriculum but she wondered if Professor Binns might be able to help her. Buoyed by this idea Hermione gather her bag and made her way to the history of magic classroom.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read so far. I would love to hear your thoughts please leave a comment.


	6. Eawynn

When Hermione reached the history of magic classroom professor Binns was teaching, she couldn’t help but feel amused by the look of boredom on the faces of the third years. Clearly Professor Binns’ lessons had not improved. She waited patiently until the class was dismissed not wishing to upset the ghostly teacher.

“Professor,” she called urgently as it looked as if the spectre was about to disappear into the ether.

“Ah Miss Granger, how lovely to see you, how can I help?” He greeted.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about an aspect of 11th century history. I have struggled to find the information I need in the library.”

“Yes,” the professor said, encouraging her to continue.

“Can you tell me anything about a woman called Eawynn who may have had some association with Armand Malfoy?” She asked cautiously, not wishing to give too much away.

“A little,” he offered, “though much of it is speculation as not much evidence remains. Have a seat Miss Granger,” he signalled to the seat before her indicating that there was a little more to tell than she supposed.

“Eawynn of Mercia, is believed to have been a descendent of Alfred the Great. Some historians suggest she was a powerful witch who came into contact with Armand Malfoy during the period of history muggles call the Norman Conquest. It is unclear what their relationship was, some have it they were enemies, others lovers. What is recorded is that she was accused of witchcraft by the church.”

“Oh! I assume she was executed?” Hermione asked, feeling empathy for the woman though she had never met her.

“So it would seem, but there is more,” the Professor of Magical History continued, “some have claimed that Armand was not at this time known as Malfoy. There is some suggestion he was known at this time as Armand de Giverny and that the name Malfoy was a consequence of a great act of betrayal at this time. Who or what was betrayed, or even if the story is true we can not be certain. What is certain is that it was not the King who he betrayed as William continued to reward Armand for his services. What ever those services were.”

“So this is in large part speculation?” She asked.

“Perhaps interpretation would be a more accurate term but certainly the reason we do not teach this time period at Hogwarts is because much of the evidence has been lost. Well my dear if you don’t mind I have my next class to prepare for.”

Knowing herself dismissed, Hermione thanked the ghostly Professor and left him to his preparations.

As she returned to the common room Hermione reflected that whilst she now had some points of reference she was no closer to understanding what it had to do with her or even why Draco had been determined she shouldn’t read that book. _It had to be more than just embarrassment about the actions of an ancestor. Didn’t it?_

* * *

Draco determined that he would have to tell the muggle-born witch something, enough to stop her prying. He decided to write to his mother, asking her to send anything that pertained to his ancestor Armand Malfoy and the witch Eawynn from the manor’s library.

Three days later, as he ate his breakfast, his mother’s owl dropped a single small parcel. It was a bundle of ancient documents written on a fragile vellum, the ink so faded in places it could barely be read. His mother had attached a note;

_Dearest Draco,_

_There is little I could find, it is as if this woman Eawynn had been redacted from history. Contained here in are the few reference our library contain._

_Mother_

Of course his mother didn’t know. It was a secret passed through the male line but Draco knew full well why Eawynn of Mercia had been redacted from history and it was a secret he intended to keep.

He spent the night perusing the documents to ensure they did not give away one particular clue. He didn’t care if Granger found out his ancestor was a villain. She knew him for a villain, hell he was the son and grandson of villains. Villainy was synonymous with the name Malfoy. It was not so much the name as the motto: ‘Sanctimonia Vincet Semper’ that concerned him, the betrayal that the motto enshrined.

* * *

Hermione felt like every waking hour was taken with thoughts of Draco Malfoy not knowing the full extent of the prophecy or what Malfoy was hiding was driving her insane. Armed with a little more information she decided to research in the early wizarding history in library in the hope she could piece things together.

She hadn’t been there long before she knew he was there behind her. She had not seen him but his distinct scent gave him away.

“What do you want Malfoy?” She asked without turning around to acknowledge him.

“Perhaps I don’t want anything, perhaps I was just admiring the view,” he told her.

_Was he flirting with her?_

She turned round giving Draco a long look. She had to admit he was handsome and she had to admit she was beyond intrigued by him. Yet she could not imagine them being lovers.

She continued to remove the texts she need from the shelves, levitating into a neat pile behind her that followed her down the aisle.

“I see you have not given up on this,” he teased, with a nod to the pile that trailed her. Draco didn’t notice as she suddenly froze her hand on the spine of a green tome. He bumped into her reaching a hand out to steady himself. As he did so the bookcases around him began to melt, the air shimmer.

They emerged in a darkened room. Draco knew Granger was at his side, his hand was still on her arm. There was little light in the room but a figure stood out in the darkness. A pale blond head caught their eye.

Hermione turned towards the figure and gasped. It was clearly Armand Malfoy, his resemblance toDraco was so obvious, what was also obvious was that he was naked, his bare back and buttocks turned toward them. Beneath him, moaning with pleasure was a brunette, her curls spread across grey wolf skins that covered their bed.

Armand turned suddenly, looking over his shoulder, as if something had spooked them and just as quickly as the scene had appeared it faded and the pair found themselves back inthe library at Hogwarts.

Draco was tempted to tease her, ask if it had turned her on? For him it had been like watching himself make lover to Granger. He didn’t fancy himself in the role of voyeur but he was now seduced by the idea that he had just observed what could have been him making love to Granger. Granger however, he quickly realised, was hyperventilating and all thought of taunting her left his mind.

“What was that?” She managed to get out in a breathless whisper.

Though he thought perhaps he shouldn’t he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her.

“I didn’t think you were that much of an innocent?”He commented wiggling his brows.

“Not that...I know what _that_ was...I mean what just happened?” She clarified.

Draco looked around them suddenly realising that the book ‘Eawynn and Armand’ was the green tome Granger had been touching.

“I thought you returned this?”

“I did!” She told him vehemently.

* * *


	7. Seducing Malfoy?

Hermione knew she had replaced the book in the ‘R’ section, she had no idea how the book had got to where it was. It was that realisation that had shocked her in the first place.

“I put it back in the fiction section where it belonged. I don’t know how it got there.” She exclaimed

“Magic Granger!” He laughed.

“But why?” She questioned, “Oh don’t say it, don’t say I can’t tell you!” She said in exasperation.

Draco held out a package to her;

“Here Granger, it won’t tell you everything but it is as much as I can say.” He pressed it into her hand and walked away. Hermione watched him walk away wondering if, under his robes he had inherited that well muscled arse of Armand’s.

* * *

Slowly Hermione was piecing together the story of Eawynn and Armand. The witch was a descendent of King Alfred the Great. She was resident at the court of Earl Edwin of Mercia at the time of the Norman Conquest. She was clearly a powerful witch. Although Hermione did not know if her status as a witch was either known or welcomed amongst her people. Hermione guessed that the woman she had seen with Armand, in the memory the book had shown, was Eawynn. Which would suggest, at least at one point, they were lovers but that did not preclude them later becoming enemies. Yet, though Hermione had deduced this much, she was still no closer to working out why this in anyway pertained to her and why Malfoy was keeping secrets!

By the time Ginny came into the dorm late in the afternoon Hermione had documents spread across the room with magical string linking, what the brunette perceived to be, connections. To Ginny it was like walking into the lair of a spider.

“Hermione what on Earth?” The redhead breathed out in hint of amusement in her tone.

“I’m researching,” Hermione told her barely lifting her head to acknowledge the other witch’s presence.

“You do know lessons are over?”Ginny asked her, stifling a laugh.

“Yes...what?” Hermione questioned, so distractedby her thoughts that she had barely heard a word of what her friend said.

“Hermione Granger are you listening to me?” The fiery Gryffindor demanded.

“Sorry yes, I was a little distracted,” Hermione admitted.

“I can see that,” Ginny commented wryly, “but why?”

Hermione wondered how much she should tell her friend. When she didn’t respond immediately Ginny continued her interrogation;

“It’s about the prophecy isn’t it?”

Hermione sighed, “yes,” she conceded.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” her friend encouraged, before adding, “two heads are better than one.”

Hermione decided to come clean, she told Ginny about the memories the book had shown her and Malfoy, what Professor Binns had told her, what she had learned from the library and what she had so far discovered from the documents Malfoy had given her, which admittedly wasn’t much.

“Remind me again what Trelawney said.” Ginny requested, when Hermione had finished.

“You will have a lover who you will be afraid to acknowledge. Your love will mirror that of his ancestor. It will be as great a love as Eawynn and Armand and it will change the Wizarding World. Together there is nothing you and he can not achieve, if you open your heart to him and put aside all that you think you know.” Hermione repeated.

“Put aside all you think you know,” Ginny repeated, “what do you think that might me?”

“All I known about Malfoy? All I know about the magical world? All I know about this?” She signalled to the web of information around her, “I’m not sure.”

“So what do you think Malfoy his hiding?” Ginny asked.

“Some act of treachery? Some betrayal? But even then I can’t understand why Malfoy is trying to hide something. What would it matter after all this time? I need to know what is in that book but I can’t access it without his approval and he won’t give it.”

“May be, may be not,” Ginny said enigmatically.

“Ginny, what are you thinking?” Hermione challenged sensing mischief in her friends comment.

“May be you could change his mind?” Ginny said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

* * *

Seducing Malfoy was Ginny’s insane plan, some how she had managed to persuade her petite friend that this was the way to get Malfoy’s cooperation. She had jokingly called it ‘Operation Seduce Malfoy’. Now, as Hermione prepared for the end of year ball, she was seriously regretting agreeing to this. She was not some femme fatale, _how had she ever allowed Ginny to talk her into this?_ She wondered, as Ginny carefully styled her hair. She wasn’t convinced she could do it. She wasn’t convinced he even found her attractive.

Sensing what she was thinking Ginny reassured her;

“All you have to do is get him a little drunk and get him alone in the library. Then just allow things to take their course.”

Hermione looked unconvinced.

“By the time I have finished with you you will be irresistibly beautiful-Malfoy won’t stand a chance.” Ginny promised.

Hermione scoffed but she did have a plan, as long as she could pull it off. In reality she couldn’t say that she would mind if she had to kiss Malfoy, she wouldn’t need to act too much to pretend she found him attractive. She certainly couldn’t pretend that, since the last memory they had seen together, she hadn’t wondered what it would be like to have him make love to her.

Snapping out of her reverie she gave her attention back to getting ready for the ball. Hair and make up done she rose to put on her gown. They had deliberately selected a muggle ball gown, they tended to be a little less conservative than their wizarding equivalent, not that the gown was outrageously revealing. It was elegant, a fitted bodice with shawl collar that showed off her décolletage and it was emerald green. A homage to Slytherin colours that the girls hoped would send Malfoy a wordless signal.

Hermione stood and took in her image in the huge mirror in the corner of the dorm and smiled.

* * *

It was not long after she enter the Great Hall that Malfoy spotted her;

“Hello Granger!” He greeted her with a long appraising look, his voice in that low register that made parts of her clench.

“Hello Malfoy,” she responded, her tone so sexy she barely recognised her own voice.

Malfoy smirked, his pupils dilating, a clear expression of interest.

_Game on!_ Hermione thought.


	8. A Terrible Thing

_Merlin she looked edible._ The emerald green gown, from his angle, gave just a glimpse of the swell of her breast. _Was this really Hermione Granger?_ She looked every inch the temptress.

“Dance Granger?” He asked, holding out his hand with more bravado than he really felt. He half expected her to refuse but, without even a flicker of doubt she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Draco was sure she shivered as he took her waist to waltz her around the floor, she moved graceful, their movement flowing naturally together as if they were part of a matched pair. As she warmed from the movement Draco felt himself engulfed by her scent, it induced in him a level of intoxication beyond his normal experience with fire whiskey. As the music slowed and the mood changed he pulled her closer, though petite she had beautifully formed curves and Draco had to resist the urge to explore them further.

Draco didn’t want to share, he monopolised the beautiful brunette, glaring menacing at other approaching suitors. Silently laying his claim to her. Strangely she seemed not to mind, happily moving closer and sliding her hands into the hair at the nap of his neck. No one seemed shocked by their level of intimacy. After a number of dances, a pink flush on her face, Hermione pleaded the need to rest and refresh. Draco walked her to the refreshments, a proprietary hand at the base of her spine.

“Green suits her,” Blaise mused, approaching Draco as the Gryffindor Princess went off to ‘powder her nose’, Draco felt the jealousy rise in him. He must not have hidden it well. “But it’s really not your colour mate!” Blaise chortled, accurately reading his friend’s feelings, adding, ‘if you ever tire of her...”

“Sod off Blaise,” Draco growled.

“I’m just messing with you,” Blaise admitted, “you look well together.”

Draco thought that might be the nearest his fellow Slytherin would come to acceptance of him being with Granger. 

She returned to thank him for the dance, about to walk away. He held out a hand to stop her;

“I don’t think so, I haven’t finished with you yet!” He told her, his voice a low challenge.

“Oh!” She all but purred, “would you like to go somewhere a little quieter.”

 _Mother of Merlin,_ Draco swore inwardly, as his collar suddenly felt too tight, _this version of Granger is going to be the death of me._

* * *

Hermione had not known she could play the seductress but he had made it easy for her. Malfoy seemed all too susceptible to her charm. Now she had him alone all she needed to do was get him to the library. Deciding not to explain she simply took his hand and dragged him in the direction she wished to take him. As they rounded the corner towards the library he laughed;

“Really Granger, the library?”

“The scene of all my fantasies Malfoy,” she smirked pulling him through the door and towards the ‘R’ section.

“Oh I see,” he said slowing, “temptress!”

“Where else but the Romance section ,” she said lightheartedly, trying to distract him from the fact that the book might well be there. She pushed him up against the book stacks, close to where she had first found the book. She was about to reach for the tome when he spun her.

“Naughty!” He chastised batting her hand away.

“Let’s read it?” She asked, trying to keep her voice alluring rather than anxious.

“Did you want to see a little bit more of Armand ?”he teased, ”were you wondering if that is what all the Malfoy men look like naked?” He whispered, beginning to kiss his way across her left shoulder. Hermione’s breath hitched at the contact. “Did you find it erotic Granger? She looked so like you.” He continued, now pressing lingering kisses up her neck.

“Please,” she begged, reaching behind her for the book, not exactly sure in that moment what she was begging him for. He made to take it from her;

“Maybe later,” he offered, moving to push the book aside but as previously as soon as both of them touched the green volume another scene unfolded.

* * *

Armand Malfoy stood before them, so red he looked like he had bathed in blood. Eawynn, in a plain linen shift as if she had been raised from her bed, looked at him horrified.

“Are you hurt?” She immediately asked rushing towards the blood splattered blond, “are you wound? Armand?” She questioned when he failed to answer her.

“Bring hot water, no fill a tub of hot water,” the brunette instructed unseen servants somewhere behind where Hermione and Draco stood.

“What is it?” She coaxed the man who stood in her bed chamber, “what happened?”

Hermione immediately recognised that Armand Malfoy was all but catatonic with shock. _He had to have seen battle before,_ Hermione deduced, _this had to be something else_.

The blood crusted warrior still hadn’t said a word but as Eawynn got closer he crumpled at her feet. On his knees, like a supplicant before her, he began to sob.

“Armand,” she whispered, stroking a few damp strands of hair from his bow, “what is it? You’re frightening me.”

Still the blond wizard seemed unable to speak.

The scene shifted to an anti-chamber where a large steaming wooden tub had been set up. Armand sat waist deep in the water visibly trembling whilst Eawynn, her shift now transparent and wet, gently bathed him. Rinsing out the blood from his hair, the splatters from his face. Her brow tight with worry.

“Armand,” she addressed him again, taking his face so that he would look at her, “what is it?”

“I have done a terrible thing,” he finally managed to choke out, burying his head against her, “there were women and children,” he spoke disjointedly, “the streets ran with their blood, they burnt the barns, slaughtered the animals, even ploughed the salt stores into the earth. They screamed, so much screaming and I did nothing, I did nothing!”

Hermione watched as Eawynn’ s emotions flashed across her face. She watched moment of shattering pain as the witch before her recognised, that though she loved Armand, she might never be able to forgive this.

Hermione could not forget that pained expression, it had seared itself into her brain as they re-emerges in the library.

* * *

Draco recognised himself in his ancestor, unable to forgive himself, not for what he had done, but for what he had not. Draco remembered he needed to put things right, he had almost given in, shown Granger the book, but he had been violent reminded of why he could not.

“Let me read the book?” She asked solemnly,the earlier mood completely killed, “it can not matter now.”

“But it does,” he told her determinedly.

“Why? Why does it matter anymore?” Hermione demanded.

Draco didn’t answer, he gently dropped the hand he had been holding and walked away. Leaving Hermione more frustrated than ever.

* * *

.


	9. Why does it matter anymore?

Granger’s question stuck with him, though he tried to persuade himself that he still had a family secret to keep, family honour to restore, he could not help wonder why it still mattered. He knew she assumed that she had seen the secret, that it was some act of brutality his forebear had been involved in. She was wrong. He would not tell her that and as there were only 15 days before school would be over he hoped in the time that remained he could avoid her.

* * *

Hermione had begun to question her own sanity. She knew that divination was a load of old rubbish. She should never have listened to Trelawney, never have listened to Ginny. The whole notion of Malfoy being her lover was just a nonsense, or so she repeatedly tried to tell herself, but after last night...

“Get a grip Granger,” she told herself, certain that they had created a self-fulfilling prophecy and that if she ignored Malfoy for the rest of her time in school nothing would ever come of it.

Hermione made a decision. For once in her life she would listen to what Malfoy had said, he had told her no good would come of it. She decided she agreed with him. Carefully, she packed away the documents he had given her. She would need to return them but not today. Today she was going to spend time with her friends by the Black Lake. Grabbing her swim suit and a towel she set off through the castle to join her friends who were picnicking on the lawns.

* * *

Hogwarts was rarely warm enough to enjoy time outside on the grounds but today was a brilliant day. The usual grey Scottish sky had been replaced by a cloud free canvas of azure blue. The brilliant sun painted thick shadows at his feet but Draco obverse none of this. Only the curly haired siren surfacing from the lake caught his eye.

The Gryffindors were bathing, splashing each other, giggling loudly. Draco felt that familiar pang of jealousy that he had always experienced watching this groups friendly familiarity. He tensed as Weasley dunked Granger under the water. She came up squealing with mirth, her thick tresses heavy with water that rolled off her shoulders and down her back. Draco found himself choked by envy, he had hoped that one day he and Granger might... but no, he couldn’t imagine ever having a relationship like that with her or anyone else but he craved it.

Casually Blaise and Draco approached the group. Draco’s resolve to stay away from the muggle born witch suddenly shattered. He wanted to be in there with them. He signalled to Blaise, a silent, _shall we?_

* * *

Hermione watched as the two Slytherins approached. To her astonishment they began to strip off, were they going to join them? She watched in fascination as the two divested themselves of their clothing. They were an exquisite study in contrast, one fair and bright, the other dark as midnight but Merlin were they both beautiful in form. Tall and lean, with well defined muscle in all the right places. Hermione could not disguise her pleasure as she looked them both up and down.

At some silent signal the pair ran and cannon balled off the jetty into the lake, breaking the surfacelike a bomb going off. She watched Draco resurface, pushing back his water darkened hair from his face. He caught her eye, he knew she was watching and disappeared under the surface of the lake only to reappear right before her.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to do but it had not been what he did. He splashed her. The look of outrage on her face must have been a sight to behold because he laughed. A full blown belly laugh, it was a rich and warm sound and Hermione stilled in amazement. She couldn’t recall ever really hearing him laugh, at least not like that.

Before she really knew what she was doing, what she was thinking, she was splashing him back. In self-defence he grabbed a hold of her and pulled them both under. It was only a moment before they surfaced laughing, all thought of their past and the prophecy of their future forgotten, lost in the simply pleasure of splashing in the water.

It was a few moments before they realised the awkward hold they had on each other. Hermione broke the spell making a ‘run’ for the bank, swimming as fast as she could. He had a longer stroke and his height and strength allowed him to make short work of the pursuit. He caught her in the shadow of an over hanging willow. Despite all her promises to herself, despite all her determination to let it be, as he closed in on her pulling her into him, she could not help the timorous anticipation that overcame her. She wanted him to hold her, she wanted him to kiss her and when he did she felt her determination to be done with him fold, like a straw house in the wind.

Nothing had ever felt like this. An emptiness she had not known existed was suddenly filled as his lips crashed into hers. She had not known how much she needed this, how much she wanted him until breathlessly he pulled away and she felt suddenly bereft.

“Hermione!” Ginny called, from beyond the curtain of willow, “Hermione where are you?”

“I have to go,” she whispered to him, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement but said nothing as he wondered once again if his family secret really mattered anymore.

* * *

Hermione returned to her room to shower and change into dry clothing. Lounging on her bed she looked again at the package of documents Malfoy had given her, now neatly tied with a green ribbon. Suddenly something occurred to her something she had read that suddenly made more sense. Taking apart the package Hermione sought out the letter she had read before.

The letter was marked, in old Norman French ‘unread’. Hermione suspected the harrowing scene she and Malfoy had last seen related to an event known as The Harrying of the North, her research told her this had happened around 1069 the letter was dated 1070. In it Armand begged for Eawynn’s forgiveness, begged for her to leave with him to go to Normandy. The letter had apparently been returned ‘unread’. _Had she rejected him_? Hermione considered. Suddenly Hermione had an epiphany; Armand had betrayed Eawynn for her rejection.


	10. Jealousy

_Was Eawynn’s rejection a motive for betrayal? Had Armand accused her of witchcraft? Then why had Armand married Emma and settled in Wiltshire not long afterwards? That did not suggest he was love lorn. No,_ she told herself she was wrong, he had been remorseful, something told her he would not have done that. _Was their another woman? One jealous enough to send Eawynn to her death? Was Emma that other women. Perhaps Malfoy could be persuaded to tell her?_ _She should return the documents and then may be she could ask him?_ Hermione did not care to analyse further the fact that her heart raced at the thought of meeting him. She decided it was definite, she was absolutely certifiably.She had just been wrestling in the arms of Draco Malfoy, kissing him in the shade of a willow tree, she was obsessed by the story of one of his ancestors. Clearly she concluded, as she looked up into the canopy of her bed, she should have herself admitted to the Janice Thackeray ward.

As she lay there she couldn’t help recalling how it had felt to be in his arms. How she had fought to get as close as he could, as if she could have crawled inside him if she could. She sighed, there was no point lying to herself anymore, regardless of whether it was foretold or not, she was seriously attracted to the blond and she wasn’t sure what to do with that fact.

* * *

“So you and Granger then?” Blaise questioned, a smug look on his face as if he knew he was pushing Draco’s buttons.

“Whatever you’re thinking stop it,” Draco responded, “there is nothing going on between Granger and I.”

“So you won’t mind if I try my luck then?” Blaise continued to challenge with a wiggle of his brows. “I mean you have to admit she’s hot, did you see that tight little arse?”

Draco didn’t respond but inwardly he was seething, he knew it was jealousy and he was in very serious trouble, ‘there is nothing you can do...’ he recalled the sibyl’s words. Increasingly he felt the truth of those words. Even when he had tried to distance himself from the pretty Gryffindor he couldn’t and her challenge ‘why does it matter anymore,’ just wouldn’t leave him. He was going to break a thousand years of tradition, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and _why should he try?_ He asked himself when it was all a lie anyway.

Draco was so lost in his reverie he hadn’t noted Blaise make a beeline for the petite brunette as soon as they entered the Great Hall. Granger was leaving and Blaise was blocking her path. She giggled as Blaise whispered something in her ear. Draco had the sudden irrational desire to blow his oldest friend into the tiniest little pieces.

* * *

“So Granger,” Blaise approached Hermione unexpectedly, whispering in her ear, “I hear you have developed a taste for snake of late!” Hermione nearly choked, she could hardly miss the double entendre. “Perhaps you would like to come over the the dark side?” He challenged, “or do your tastes run more to blonds?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she offered with a giggle, playing along but watching Draco over his friend’s left shoulder. The blond had gone rigid, his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had turned to alabaster. Suddenly Hermione felt sick. Draco Malfoy was jealous! There had been a time, not so long ago, when she would have gleefully made him suffer but no more. Now she wanted to reassure him, tell him this meant nothing. This she realised was more evidence of her delusion. _They had kissed once did it even mean anything?_ Hermione caught Draco’s eye and immediately she knew the answer; yes, it meant something. Perhaps more than either of them was prepared to admit. She smiled at Draco whilst addressing Blaise; “charming though your offer is...I think I will stick to the light side.”She finished walking away as Blaise made a ‘ssss’-searing sound as if he had been burned.

* * *

Draco picked at his food. He had not like that feeling, that possibility that someone might take her from him. Suddenly he felt an urgency he had rarely experienced.He had seven days to woe Granger or lose her forever. She was right, what he had thought was important didn’t matter and he would prove it to her.

“Where are you going?” Blaise asked as Draco abruptly stood from the table.

“Library,” he mumbled in what her friends might have seen as a parody of Hermione’s usual exit strategy. Blaise made no comment but inwardly he encourage; _go for it mate_! Knowing full well who his friend was following.

* * *

“What are you doing here Draco?” She said as she saw the blond approach her with such urgency.

“I came to find you Hermione. I wanted to spend time getting to know you better,” He told her, caressing the name she had never heard him use before.“Come with me,” he said holding out his hand.

Though she took his hand she was all astonishment.

“We are going to read something.” He continued as he led her towards the ‘R’ aisle.

“Open it.” He encouraged moments later, taking the green tome and handing to her.

“Really?” She asked, though she desperately wanted to open the book she almost couldn’t believe he was allowing this.

“Yes,” he said very quietly.

“But your secret?”

“Is not worth protecting anymore,”

Cautiously she open the pages. They were blank. Not a word on any page.

“Is this a trick?” She asked him unsure if she should be angry with him.

“No, it was never about the contents of the book.” He told her calmly sensing she didn’t know whether to trust him, “it was not about what was contained inside the pages.”

“Put aside all that you think you know,” she suddenly recalled Trelawney’s words.

“What?” Draco asked.

“That was what Professor Trelawney told me,” she clarified, “I’ve always believed all the answers could be found inside a book...”

“Not within the pages,” he told her, placing his hand on top of her own. The scene again melted the moment his hand touch hers.

***


	11. The Customs of our House

There was a celebration or banquet of some sort. Hermione recognised Armand immediately hesat at the high table amongst the guests of honour, his short hair and his clean shaven face marking him out as a Norman amongst the Saxon nobility.

“So you have no indication what might have caused the gates to blow out?” Armand questioned clearly edging around the muggle’s understanding of events, to find out about the suspected obscurus.

“It did not make sense, it seemed like some demon raged through the streets perhaps it was some strange wind.”

“And did anyone see where this dark wind originated, did anyone appear to be behaving unusually?”Armand pushed his host.

Before the other man could answer there was a disturbance in the hall to their right;

“Look what you’re doing woman,” an angry Norman soldier exploded as a brunette woman apparently poured ale in his lap. He stood knocking the girl aside, his host flew to his feet drawing a dagger. Many a hand sought hilt, the tension in the room hung finely balanced a wrong move and blood would be split.

“You are a guest,” the Saxon noble, Hermione suspect was Earl Edwin, spoke with an air of command, “clearly you are unfamiliar with the customs of our house, may I introduce the Lady Eawynn of the noble house of Alfred.”

Hermione observed that the young Norman blanched, suddenly cognisant of the insult he had caused.

Earl Edwin turned to Armand; “it is the highest honour for the ladies of the house to serve our guests.” He explained.

Although Armand acknowledge this situation, signalling to the other young Norman to sit, his eyes had not left the face of Eawynn. It was apparent to Hermione he had been mesmerised by the witch form the first.

“My Lady,” Earl Edwin beckoned her across to introduce her to Armand. The blond Norman stood andrespectfully bowed his head to the young witch who held out her hand in greeting. It was barely discernible but as he took her hand there was a spark of magic. Neither, Hermione knew, wouldhave needed anymore indication of what the other was. They had felt each other’s magic.

The air shifted just as the pair locked eyes in recognition. The scene reformed, the same hall possibly later the same evening, Armand chose a moment when the Earl was engaged in conversation elsewhere to address Eawynn.

“You’re muggle born?” It was as much statement as question.

“Hush,” she told him, “not here, I will find you later.”

“What are you saying my dear,” an old crone interrupted,

“I was just telling Sir Armand that he should grow himself a manly beard for he looks as beautiful as a maid.” Eawynn commented to laughter all around.

Again the scene shifted, allowing Hermione just enough time to think that perhaps that was the start of their affair.

* * *

“Do you imagine she truly found him beautiful?” She turned, breathlessly to ask Draco as the library re-emerged.

“Enchanting isn’t she?” He responded not answering her question.

“I suppose,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Just like you,” he said reaching out to caress her cheek.

Hermione felt suddenly breathless.

“Do you think he was beautiful?” He whispered.

“Just like you,” she sighed as she looked up into his face, “just like you,” she repeated as she rose to kiss his cheek and then his jaw, his throat.

“Hermione,” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing deeply.

She kissed his lower lip drawing it between her own.

Draco was trembling with need, all the time they had danced around each other, all the time they had sparred and teased, the years of supposed hatred, it had all led to this moment. He could hold back no more he had to have her now, if she would allow it. It was late, the library was empty, hadn’t she said this was the scene of all her fantasies.

“Say it again,” she murmured, “say my name.”

“Hermione,” he said it as if it were an embrace. Her arms rose to clasp around his neck. He shivered as her fingers carded the hair at his nape, his arms twined around her waist pulling her tighter. This was the moment they both understood they were lost. There would be no turning back from here. His family might disown him, her friends might ostracise her but neither of them cared. Draco was drunk on the scent of her. She was intoxicated by his warmth, by the feel of the firm hard body pressed so closely she would swear she could feel his heart beat against her own.

In an ecstasy of fumbling, she tore his shirt open. Some how she had expected him to be pale and smooth but he was not. There was a smattering of chest hair, a shade darker than the platinum on his head, which trailed down towards his groin. It did not disappoint her she would follow that trail gladly. Yet she would lament the scarring, the criss cross of raised welts that she realised had been Harry’s doing. She looked up at Draco then, recalling that he too had suffered, he tensed as if he might pull away, as if he thought his imperfections offended her but she wouldn’t let him go. _This_ , she told him silently, as she began to kiss her way down the scar that dissected him from collar bone to hip, _too is lovely._ There was, she realised, something achingly beautiful about his flaws just like there was something achingly beautiful about this man. She knew he was damaged, they all were, but he had shown a sincere desire to make amends and she knew she needed to let him, ‘open your heart to him’ she recalled the seers words.

Hermione followed that line of golden hair down to his belt and with timid fingers threaded the leather through the buckle, opening him up so she could feel him pulse beneath her hands.

He was fully aroused now, as hard as granite and still she continued to tease her way down his torso. _Patience_ , he cautioned, he dare not startle her. So he stood there, his shirt wide open, his trousers hanging from his hips. Despite his reputation he had never made out in the library, somehow it seemed fitting that it should be with Hermione if he did.

“Unfair,” he chastised as he spun her so her back was against the stacks, “you are wearing entirely too much clothing Granger.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry, she realised there had always been something innately seductive about the way he had said her family name, even when he had been bullying her. _Had he really hated her?_ She wondered. He was carefully removing her tie now. Hermione watched in fascination as his agile fingers unfastened the knot and rolled the tie up before placing it in his pocket. There was a challenge in that move. If she wanted it back she would have to fetch it! He had beautiful hands, she thought, as she considered what those long fingers could be capable of.

He had her shirt open now, drinking in the sight of her laid bare but for the skin tones of lace that made up her bra. “Glorious,” he praised, “exquisite,” he managed knowing that soon his rising ardour would render him all but speechless. His hand rose to massage her through the tulle and lace, her delicious pink nipples pebbled at his touch and she let out a moan that was feral.

“Please Draco,” she sighed. Draco had never imagined he would hear her beg for him. His other hand slipped from her waist to her buttocks, caressing the smooth curve, tracing her thigh before catching it up her knee and hooking it around his waist. She was leaning into him now, rubbing herself urgently against his groin.

Hermione almost purred with pleasure as she felt those long elegant fingers trace the seam of her lace underwear. Rubbing her through the cloth, making her writhe with want. Her core was pulsing with need. She wanted to feel him inside her.

She was so beautiful, her head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to worship her. He wanted selflessly to give her the greatest pleasure but it suddenly occurred to him there was something he should not assume.

“Have you...” he began breathlessly, “you’re not...” he faltered again. He did not want her first time to be pushed up against a bookcase. He was determined to offer her the best of everything. Hermione sensed what he was trying to say;

“It’s okay Draco,” she reassured him, “it’s not,”

Draco wanted to praise all the deities, he would have pulled back for her but Merlin was he grateful he did not have to.

That small moment of discussion had slowed their pace but the need had not gone away. Draco realised now that what he wanted to do was not screw her against the nearest surface but to slowly make love to her. This was not the time or place.

“Hermione,” he took her hands, “I want to make love to you, I want us to have the space to take our time. I want...” he couldn’t bring himself to say it not ye _t, I want you to love me,_ he added silently.


	12. Aftermath

“Tell me what you want, where we should go? What would make it perfect?”

Hermione tilted her head at him, biting her lip in consideration, as if deciding if she should confess something.

“In the spring of our fourth year I came into the library late in the evening. You were sitting by the window, the dying light of the sun shone golden on your hair. You were lost in thought, you didn’t see me. Your features were relaxed, there was no trace of a smirk or sneer on your lips. You looked so breathtakingly handsome. I fantasied you were a fallen angel and that some how I could save you. I always wanted to save you, I always some how felt you were more than you seemed to be. In that alternate universe I walked up behind you, covered your eyes with my hands and bent forward to kiss you. I always dreamed of kissing you in the library.”

“Show me,” he coaxed, holding out his hand for her to lead the way. Hermione led him to that same window seat but it was the moon that illuminated the scene, lighting him silver. His white shirt was still open, his hair tousled and despite the damage war and enmity had done him, he was no less handsome than he had been that day years ago. She walked up behind him, covered his eyes and kissed him, deeply.

“No one will find us here,” she promised as she put up wards, silencing and notice me not charms, “this is the time and the place,” she told him as she wrapped her arms around him once more.

Draco had already promised himself he would do whatever she wanted. He conjured some cushions and blankets. She giggled;

“What? He smiled, “you don’t except me to slum it?” he asked, in a parody of this old arrogance. Before she could respond he had her on the floor beneath him.

She was so beautiful, the goodness that was within her shone through, her curls spread around her head in like a halo. Draco did not feel worthy. He wanted nothing more than to worship her, he trailed a finger down between her breasts watching the gooseflesh raise in its wake. He smirked at her wickedly, displaying some impressive skill in non-verbal magic, he vanished her bra.

Hermione gasped.

“I’ll replace it,” he promised as he leaned forward and blew a whisper of breath across her nipples, watching in delight as they hardened into dusky peeks. She moaned, arching her back towards him as he sucked one of those pink buds into his mouth. 

She trapped fistfuls of his hair in her hands, it was soft and smelt fresh and clean. She could contentedly bury herself in that scent and not care if it suffocated her. She shivered as his fingers trailed down her ribs. _When had she begun to find him so intoxicating?_ She could barely think now, lost in the sensations that his clever hands and beautiful mouth were eliciting. He had unbuttoned her skirt now and was drawing it down her legs. Hermione smiled to herself as she realised she was laying all but naked, beneath Draco Malfoy on the library floor. If Harry or Ron became aware of this they would have an aneurism. As if the thought had summoned him Hermione stiffened as Malfoy, wide eyed, stilled above her.

“Harry, leave it be, she is fine!”

The brunette heard her red haired friend protesting.

“How can you say that, she could be in danger, you don’t know that Malfoy doesn’t have her trapped. He could be doing anything.” The Boy-Who-Lived was protesting. “The map shows they are over here somewhere.”

“Harry stop!” Ginny pleaded,

Draco and Hermione lay there as if petrified.

“You don’t know what he might be doing...” Harry suddenly trailed off.

“Harry James Potter,” Ginny chastised softly, “Hermione is a big girl now, she can take care of herself and if she wishes to be under Malfoy or on top of him, if she wants to pin him to the nearest hard surface, take him...”

“Ginny!” Harry cut her off before she could finish that sentence.

“Come back to the common room Harry.” Ginny demanded her voice suddenly low and sultry.

“You don’t mean?” Harry spluttered, somewhat inarticulately.

“Hmmm!” Ginny just hummed.

Draco and Hermione dare not move. For long moments they listened intently to the steadily encroaching silence. It was Draco who finally broke the silence;

“Remind me to put the Weaslette on my Christmas gift list.” He said in all sincerity.

Hermione broke into a fit of giggles.

“Bless you Ginny Weasley,” she managed to get out, “now I believe Mr Malfoy you and I have unfinished business.”

Draco needed no further encouragement. He all but dived between her thighs. Hermione almost choked on a laugh as she thought about Harry’s face if he had happened upon them now, like this, as she lay there with Draco’s head between her legs.

Moments later Hermione was cursing the blond and his all too talented tongue.

“Merlin and Morgana stop your teasing Malfoy,” she squirmed, as his hot tongue circled her clit. “Draco,” she howled as she shuddered through the orgasm he had pulled from her but he had not finished with her yet. Before she had barely come down from the exquisite high he had given her he had shuffled out of his trousers and boxers and was lining himself up between her folds. Hermione had never felt so needy. She wanted to feel him fill her, she wanted to feel the weight of him, the press of his body upon hers, the pumping of his buttocks as he pounded deep inside her. She was ravenous with want.

He stilled seeking permission to continue.

“Stop fucking teasing, Malfoy!” She scolded.

“As you wish my Lady,” he whispered breathlessly, as he finally pushed into her.

Hermione felt delirious at their exquisite coupling.

“More,” she begged him, willing him to push deeper, to fill her to the brim.

Torturously slowly he obliged, Hermione was trembling with longing but desperate for him to move. Wanting to shatter but wanting to heighten his pleasure too.

“Show me what you’ve got Malfoy,” she challenged and she would swear he actually growled with intent. He began to move building that divine tension, winding and winding, tighter and tighter.

“Granger,” he gasped out as he was almost there, “Hermione I can’t...”

His face, the mingledlook of ecstasy and pain it was breathtaking. It was all Hermione needed to fall over the edge with him.

* * *

In the aftermath, as they lay there in a tangle of limbs Hermione could not believe what had just happened. It was not that she regretted it. It was more that it was so outside her expectations. Seven months earlier she would have never thought it possible. She would never have believed he would even touch her, never mind make love to her like that. He had dozed off, in sleep his face had an innocence, a vulnerability that she had rarely seen.

“What now?” She asked his sleeping form. Had this been a one time only event. She would understand if it was, they had made each other no promises. They could both walk away, he had given her her fantasy.

“Hi,” he said quietly, she had not been aware he had woken.

“Hi,” she replied, “it’s late perhaps we should...” she didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want it to sound like she had used him and he was now dismissed.

“Shh!” He said, placing a finger on her lips to stop her from speaking. “If you want me, if you want this, you have six days in which to acknowledge me. I will not be your dirty secret Hermione. You tell Potter and Weasley. If you don’t want this, I will understand. I will understand if you do not wish to be linked to a former Death Eater.I will treasure what we just shared and it will remain our secret.”

“Draco I...” she began

“You do not need to decide yet.” He told her stoically, “in the meantime there is more that I need to show you.”

“Can we meet tomorrow? After dinner?” She asked hopefully.

“In the library?” He suggested.

“In the library,” she agreed.

They gathered their things and he walked her back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Good night,” he wished her with a gentle chaste kiss.

She stood and watch as he walked away before she turned to enter the common room. She had not expected a welcoming committee to be waiting for her upon her return.


	13. You’re Lying

As soon as she saw Ron’s face she could tell he was incandescent with rage.

“What do you think you are doing?” He challenged.

“Going to bed,” she clipped, not in the least in the mood for this.

“I meant with Malfoy!” He all but yelled.

Hermione was seriously tempted to spill the whole tale, to tell him Draco had just made love to her in the library and that what she did with Malfoy was none of his business but she knew he would go ballistic. Whilst Harry and Draco had largely made peace with one another, Ron had never truly accepted that Draco had been coerced into the role he had played during the war. Ron had always been jealous of the blond. Hermione knew that deep down, Draco’s wealth, intelligence and eloquence played against Ron’s insecurities. No she told herself now was not the time to tell him that she may be starting a relationship with the Slytherins Prince.

“Malfoy and I have been researching something which is of interest to us both.” She said noncommittally.

“At this hour?” Ron demanded, as if he did not believe her, “I’m not stupid Hermione, the library closed hours ago you have been _with_ him haven’t you.”

She opened her mouth to say ‘yes’ she had been _with_ Malfoy but she didn’t trust her red haired friend to react sensibly.

“Goodnight Ronald,” she said making clear the conversation was at an end.

“I haven’t finished,” Ron spluttered.

“No?” She questioned, “what more is there that you want to say, Ronald?”

“You can’t be with him Hermione,” he told her dolefully, “he is using you to rebuild his reputation. He will ruin your life.”

“Thank you for your concern, Ronald. Goodnight.” She told him trying to remain calm as she walked towards the girls’ dorm.

“Hermione!” Ron whined. She ignored him but his words had hit their mark. _Would Draco really use her to enhance his own reputation?_ It didn’t ring true but she had to be sure because he had given her six days to decide. To decide if she should acknowledge him, ‘you will be afraid to acknowledge him’ Trelawney had warned her. It was true, she was afraid. Afraid that it would all blow up in her face but she also realised she was afraid to lose the blond, afraid the promise of the relationship the seer had offered would be lost to her.

* * *

Hermione was surprised when she entered her dorm to find Pravati and Ginny still awake.

“At last,” Ginny exclaimed, “I thought you were never going to return.”

Hermione didn’t speak she just gave her friend a huge hug, “thank you!” She whispered.

Ginny gave her a mischievous grin.

“You were with him weren’t you, in the library.” Ginny probed

“May be,” she offered coyly.

“Oh Merlin!” Pravati exclaimed as if Hermione had as good as admitted it, “Professor Trelawney was right. It will be the great love affair of our generation.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her dark haired friend as if Pravati was completely insane.

“She said it would be like Eawynn and Armand,” Hermione cautioned, “and I have a feeling that their affair ended badly.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny enquired.

“For reasons I have not yet fathomed Eawynn has been redacted from history.” Hermione confessed not wishing to reveal too much of what she knew.

“You don’t suppose he, well did away with her?” Pravati asked.

This was a possibility Hermione had never considered. She had assumed that the eleventh century witch had been executed for witchcraft but as with all else in the story of Draco’s forebear there was no fact of which she could be certain. Was that the secret the Malfoy family had hidden for so long? That one of their forebears was a murderer. The rise of the Norman aristocracy would have allowed Armand the power to do this but Eawynn was not a nobody. Hermione still didn’t have the answers and she desperately needed to know. If, and the emphasis was ’if’, her future was to mirror Eawynn’s she needed to know what happened to the witch. A sudden disturbing thought occurred to her. Had Armand used Eawynn’s status within the Anglo-Saxon nobility to ensure his own advancement? Was Malfoy preparing to use her status as a muggle-born heroine to rehabilitate his own?

Hermione suddenly wondered if she had made a mistake letting the blond in. Had she been careless of her heart?

* * *

Hermione slept fitfully that night and though she was cautious of the blond Slytherin she couldn’t help the riot of cherubs in her stomach at the thought of seeing him alone again. Ginny had assured her that Harry understood the need to respect her privacy. He had promised to leave the marauders’ map in his trunk unless she didn’t return after curfew but Ginny warned shecouldn’t give guarantees about her brother.

After diner Hermione rose to give her usual excuse,

“I’m going to the library,” she said

“Liar,” Ron, spit out.

“Ron,” Ginny gave her brother a stern look.

“I know you’re lying,” he challenged, “you’re going to meet _him_.”

“If by _him_ you mean Draco Malfoy, then you are correct,” Hermione would not deny it, there was nothing wrong with meeting Draco in the library to ‘research’ Eawynn and Armand. “He is helping me research one his forebears.” She refused to say anymore. Even if Ron’s jealously wasn’t unfounded, he had no right to expect her not to work with whomever she chose. “I will see you later Ginny,” she promised deciding to ignore Ron’s surly stare.

Draco was waiting, in the Romance section, that in itself seemed so fitting. Especially as he looked like a matinee idol. He was casually leaning against end of the row. Looking at her through slightly hooded eyes. Merlin he was attractive.

“Are you ready?” She asked him determined to finish the task she had set herself and understand what had happened to Eawynn of Mercia. He walked languidly towards her, the green tome already in his grasp.

“If you are,” he responded stretching out the hand with the book still in it. For a moment Hermione hesitated. She was nervous, almost afraid what she might see. What if it was the horrific fate that Pravati had suggested? “Hermione?” He questioned when she didn’t move to take his hand.

She met his eye, it’s okay she silently acknowledge as she took his hand and darkness descended.

* * *

They appeared in Eawynn’s room. She was alone, a single tallow candle the only light as she sat quietly braiding her own hair. Behind them the door groaned and she turned with a smile as if she were about to greet a friend or a lover. Hermione watch as Eawynn’s face fell. Whomever she had been expecting this was not them.

“My Lord Edwin?” She said as much question as greeting.

“He is not coming,” the Earl pronounced sternly.

Eawynn looked up in panic; “is he hurt, is he...”

The Earl scoffed

“Such tender thoughts for one who is our enemy.”

“Enemy, I don’t understand I thought you had made your peace with the Norman King. I thought you believe a match between Armand and I would seal the bonds between the Normans and ourselves. I thought Armand and I were to be married.” She pleaded in confusion.

“You would mix your noble blood with that demon?” The Earl warned.

Eawynn they could see was alert now. Something had happened, had Armand’s magic been unmasked?

“Where is Armand cousin?” Eawynn demanded to know.

“To you he is as good as dead, forget that you knew him, you will not see him again.” With those words the Earl had left and the scene faded as Draco and Hermione watched Eawynn crumple to the ground.


	14. Broken

The next scene showed a bright summer’s day. Armand, dressed casually in a lose linen shirt, sat with his back against an ancient oak watching women spreading washed linen across the rosemary bushes. He closed his eyes apparently enjoying the dabbled shade. His peace was disturbed by the arrival of white falcon, a small missive clasped in its talons.

They did not see what the message contained only the sense of panic that it wrought. Armand was frantic, he seemed to be desperately trying to puzzle something out. To find a solution. Whatever the problem, or if the solutions was found, they were not shown before the landscape morphed again.

* * *

Eawynn was slumped in the corner of a small dark cell, her hair matted with blood. She was clearly a prisoner.

“Why doesn’t she apparate out?” Hermione asked turning to Draco, knowing that the eleventh century witch could not see them. Draco just shook his head. As they watched two soldiers clad in mail arrived and lifted Eawynn roughly to her feet. She did little to resist, she seemed broken.

The walls flickered as if Hermione and Draco had walked through them and they found themselves before a place of execution. Something at the back of Hermione’s mind told her that this wasn’t quiet right, that women were not executed for witchcraft at this time. So what crime had Eawynn committed and why had the witch not used her powers to escape.

The crowd jeered as she was lead to the stake, she did not lift her head, see did not struggle. It seemed as if she had given up. The pyre was lit, the wood must have been too green, the flames barely took hold but the air was filled with acrid smoke. Hermione noted a flash of blond hair in the crowd. _How could Armand watch this?_ Hermione questioned, feeling sickened. She watched him closely wondering what sort of monster could stand and watch a woman he had loved burn. Suddenly as if making a decision, Armand stepped back from the crowd, lost from Hermione’s sight, he appeared to disappear. The smoke was so thick Eawynn was obscured from view. Faintly Hermione thought she heard her scream “no!” She thought she heard the other witch protest and then she was silent.Hermione did not have time to consider what had happened before the smoke wavered and the scene melted away.

* * *

“How could he do that?” Hermione asked, as if personally offended by Draco’s ancestor. He couldn’t tell her but he could tell her that there was something in that scene she may have missed. It was not quite as it seemed.

“I need to know,’ Hermione said bemoaning her ignorance.

“Why?” he teased, tilting his head to consider her more closely

“I would have thought that obvious,” she responded.

“How so?”

“Because my fate will apparently mirror hers.”Hermione clarified.

“I see,” Draco responded his tone contemplative. As he said no more Hermione continued to reflect on the memories the book had shown them. Suddenly a solution presented itself to her.

“Draco, is there a portrait of Armand in any of your family homes?”

“Indeed, a portrait of my ignoble ancestor hangs in what was my father’s study.” Draco admitted, knowing full well where this line of question was heading.

“ Then, if you are not able to tell me, perhaps he will?” She tentatively suggested.

“Unlikely,” he told her.

“But we could try?” She prompted, hopefully.

He studied her silently for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed, “when term is over I will take you to the manor and you may talk to him.”

“But...” she was about to protest that she needed to know before the end of term, before she decided to publicly acknowledge the blond, but she realised he knew this.

“You will have the answer, whether you acknowledge me or not,” he promised, “but there will be no going back. Judge me as you will but you have five days to decide and whatever you decide will be final. No second chances. I will not be your dirty little secret. The end of school is either the beginning or the end for us Hermione. Whether Armand proves to be a saint or sinner you will need to decide if you trust me or not, if you want to be with me or not.”

She almost told him then and there that she wanted this but something stopped her. Only later would she recognise it was fear.

She was afraid that, though Draco appeared to have changed, though he seemed a better, kinder man, the cruel bully might remain. If she acknowledge him would she deliver herself into kind or callous hands. Would he treasure her or torment her? The truth was she was not sure. Foolishly, she had sought the end of Eawynn’s story, believing it would guide her, tell her what to do. She realised now she had to determine her own direction in life. Was Malfoy really worth pursuing? _Yes,_ a small voice in her sub conscious whispered but it was, as yet, drowned by a cacophony of unanswered questionsthat still clamoured to be heard. Never before had Hermione bemoaned the luxury of choice but for the next three days and long, long nights it haunted her.

* * *

As the morning of the eve of graduation dawned she was no nearer making a choice and she felt fractious. _Would inaction and indecision doom her?_

“Hermione?” The quiet unassuming voice of Neville Longbottom broke into her reverie, “are you okay?”

“Honestly Neville,” she responded solemnly, “no.”

“Can I help?”

Hermione wasn’t sure why she decided to confide in her fellow Gryffindor. Perhaps because she knew he was a kind soul who wouldn’t judge her.

“Do you believe people can change?” She asked him.

“If they truly want to, if they are given the opportunity and it is worth their while.” He answered.

“Even if they have been wicked and cruel?”

“This is about Malfoy isn’t it?” Neville asked.

_When had Neville become so astute?_ She wondered. She saw no point in lying.

“Yes,” she admitted.

Neville was silent for a moment. Thinking how he might compose what he wanted to say.

“Merlin knows I have no reason to sing the Prince of Slytherin’s praises but I had a lot of time to wonder why he was so mean to me. He was a real bastard to me growing up but I often questioned, if I had been raised by Lucius Malfoy would I have been any better? But the most curious thing about Malfoy, the thing that most perturbed me was Malfoy’s wand.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked as she watched Neville take out his own wand and lay it on the breakfast table before them. 13 inches, cherry wood, unicorn hair core. I think it may have been the last wand Mr Ollivander ever sold.” Neville continued, smiling sadly. “As I stood in the shop that day Ollivander chattered, as he tended to do, he told me the unicorn hair core was most resistant to dark magic and that the wand chooses the wizard.”

Hermione smiled, she had heard the old wand maker say that too.

“It was what he said next that gave me pause; ‘Strange that a boy like Malfoy should have a wand with a unicorn hair core. I am sure his father had understood what that meant. He had looked at the boy with such disappointment. I pitied the boy, that getting his first wand was marred, in such a way, by that reaction.’ I hadn’t asked anymore about it, Ollivander often seemed to allow his thoughts to meander, but afterwards it all made sense. It made sense that Malfoy couldn’t kill Dumbledore, couldn’t kill anyone, couldn’t betray Harry. It made sense that what he had done had been for the love of his family not because he gloried in the dark arts. In short, to answer your question Hermione. Yes I think people can change but in truth I am not sure how much Malfoy really needed to. I don’t think he was ever who we really believed him to be.”

Hermione sat there in silence, stunned by Neville's revelation. Though she did not know that it helped her.


	15. Fallout

The lawns of Hogwarts were packed with the families of the seventh and eight year students who were all graduating together this year. Hermione missed her parents more than ever, they were still in Australia the memory modification she had given them was irreversible. She told herself they would be proud of her but she did not feel proud. Hermione felt utterly miserable. Her parents were not here to see her graduate and she faced the dilemma that she feared would I see her lose either her oddest friends or the young blond who she was afraid she might be falling in love with.

The Weasley’s had arrived in force to see Ron and Ginny graduate and to offer the support of a surrogate family to Harry and Hermione. Hermione stood surrounded by people she regarded as kin and yet she was eaten up by anxiety. She wanted to tell them. She wanted to proclaim to the world that she was with Draco but she was a coward. Twice she had attempted to tell them all, and twice she had choked on the words.

She had not seen Draco yet, she assumed he was somewhere with his mother. Hermione felt keenly that her time were running thin. She suspected Draco would have anticipated that she would have acknowledged him before now. With so little time left Hermione realised that the only options left for her to do that would be a very public ones. As families began to take their seats, as the rows of neatly placed chairs began to fill Hermione scanned the crowd frantically looking for that familiar bright platinum head. He was no where to be seen and Hermione knew the sands of time were ebbing. The ceremony was about to begin. Hermione could feel her chance to be with Draco slipping away and she knew that her cowardice had cost her. _There had to be a way, he had to be somewhere._ As she thought this the headmistress cast a ‘sonorous’ and called the assembled graduates and audience to order. Hermione realise she was too late.

* * *

Draco didn’t want to look at the crowd before him, he didn’t want to see their judgemental stares. He had hoped against hope that Hermione would acknowledge him that she felt enough for him to let them all know what he meant to her. He was to be disappointed. She had not come forward and though he couldn’t blame her, her rejection hurt more than he would allow himself to admit. He looked at his feet as he mounted the podium to accept his graduation certificate. He made eye contact with no one. It was all over now, he could leave, forget about her, put it all behind him like the rest of his bad decisions. He should never have allowed himself to open his heart to her. He should have known she would break it. _Had it not been for that sodding prophecy._ He inwardly cursed as he accepted the headmistress’ hand.

“Congratulations Draco,” he dimly heard the headmistress say. He wasn’t really paying attention. Draco had placed second in the year, there were no prizes for guessing who outranked him, but he couldn’t bear to look. He knew she would be coming up to the podium next. He knew they would pass each other in the aisle, though it might be the last time he ever laid eyes on her still he couldn’t look up. He was hyper aware of her as she came towards him. It was as if his magic strained from his very core to reach out and touch her. He wouldn’t allow it. She had made her position clear and he would maintain some dignity. They were almost level with each other now, a few more seconds and it would be over, he steeled himself to walk passed her. He didn’t make it.

“Draco,” she said quietly, standing in front of him. He couldn’t look up, if he looked at her he would shatter. “Draco,” she tried again her hand gently reaching out to tip his chin upwards. The air went preternaturally still, as if even the earth held its breath. “You are not my dirty little secret,” she told him as she rose up and kissed him in full view of a large part of wizarding society. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t kiss her back but when he did she knew they had sent the message loud and clear that they were together and she prepared herself for the fallout.

Though the audience maintained a respectful silence for the rest of the ceremony when it was over a maelstrom of attention spread towards them but Hermione would not be cowed. She grasped Draco’s hand and, dodging the baying press, dragged him towards the Weasleys and Harry.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea Granger,” he cautioned.

“Trust me, it will be fine.” She said reassuring him and hoping it was true.

“Mr and Mrs Weasley,” she addressed the stunned couple. “Allow me to formally introduce you to my boyfriend Draco Malfoy.”

“Hermione what the hell...” Ron began to protest before his sister gabbed him sharply in the ribs.

Draco pulled himself up to his full six foot three, squared his shoulders and held out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you Mr Weasley,” he offered,

There had been generations of enmity between the Malfoys and the Weasleys but Draco decided it was not his grudge to bear. He understood that these were good people and he was man enough to acknowledge that.

“Please to meet you too Draco,” Arthur Weasley finally said, accepting the hand after only a moments hesitation. “Have you met Molly, my wife?”

Arthur began a round of introduction and Draco behaved as a true gentleman greeting everyone politely. When all the introductions were made Draco excused himself to rejoin Hermione. Ron and Harry, Hermione noted, had slipped away rather than shake Draco’s hand.

“Now there is someone that you need to meet.”Draco said snagging Hermione’s hand.

“Mother, I would like to introduce you to Hermione Granger, my girlfriend.”

“Miss Granger,” Narcissa Malfoy, acknowledge, a surprisingly pleasant smile gracing her lips “a pleasure to meet you Draco has told me so much about you.”

Hermione smiled and looked mischievously up at Draco.

“Really mother!”

Narcissa laughed it was a beautiful peal of sound.

“Mother, if you wouldn’t mind I would like to take Hermione to the manor this afternoon, when we are finished here, there is something I want to show her.” Draco asked.

“Of course my dear, that really isn’t a problem. I think your friends are waiting to speak to you Miss Granger.” Narcissa indicated over her shoulder. Draco moved to follow as Hermione turned towards her two best friends.

“It’s alright Draco, I will be okay on my own,” she told him gently, as she marched towards what she knew would be a showdown with the boys.

“I’m trying to understand Hermione,” Harry said quietly, “you are one of my oldest friends and I want to give you the chance to explain because God knows I don’t get this Hermione. I don’t understand how after all he did to you...”

“Harry he’s changed, I’m not even sure he was ever the bad boy we all assumed him to be.” Hermione told him appeasingly.

“Bullshit Hermione, he’s playing you,” Ron objected.

“To what end Ron?” She asked him.

“Because he wants to use your reputation,”

“The reputation I just ruined when I acknowledge him in public you mean, the reputation the Rita fucking Skeeter will tear apart when she paints me as a Death Eater’s whore in her scandal rag tomorrow morning? Believe me Ron there will be nothing left of my reputation that he could use.”

“And you are okay with that? Ron asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“Why Hermione?” Harry asked, clearly struggling to understand.

Hermione leaned forward to whisper in Harry’s ear, she wanted to be certain that no one else heard,

“Because I think I’ve fallen in love him Harry, and I know it makes no sense and I can’t explain it but...,” she looked at him pleading for him to understand as she finished silent, _I think he might be everything I ever need._

Harry gave her a very long look then a nod that Hermione knew was Harry’s acceptance.

“Be careful Hermione,” he said as he grabbed Ron by the elbow. Ron could be heard complaining as Harry dragged him away towards the waiting boat but Hermione knew, that if Harry was on side and the Weasleys, Ron would come around eventually and as for the rest of the world, well she didn’t care.

Hermione went back to Draco and took his hand as they joined the rest of their peers on their last boat ride across the lake. Leaving Hogwarts the way they had all first arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the penultimate chapter. So, if you made it this far, please stick it out until the end and comment i would love to know what you thought :)
> 
> Up next we finally find out what Armand’s secret history was.


	16. The End

As soon as they were outside thecastle’s wards Draco side along apparated them both to his childhood home. They landed smoothly in the rose garden. He did not say anything but hermione strongly suspected he intend to ensure she did not see the parts of the manor she had ‘visited’ before.

“This way,” he encouraged, taking her hand and leading her towards French windows that face onto an extensive terrace. Hermione couldn’t hold back the gasp that came to her when she entered the room. “This is the ballroom,” he told her matter of fact, “but we can dance later,” he smiled as he lifted his arm and twirled her around his finger. Hermione giggled suddenly feeling very light hearted. He led her through the house past statues and paintings of a variety of ancestors, they even passed one of Lucius, his father, who Hermione could swear he sneered at her.

“Are you ready for this?” Draco asked her as they reached a set of imposing double doors.

“Yes,” Hermione replied simply and Draco pushed the doors open.

Lucius Malfoy’s study smelt like a gentlemen’s club, leather, fyrewhiskey and old cigar smoke. It was immediately apparent that this had been Lucius’ inner sanctum and, although she did not like the man, being here still felt like an intrusion. This intimate space screamed wealth and privilege and Hermione couldn’t help the slight tang of bitterness she experienced as she reflected that a man like Lucius Malfoy should have had so much whilst Arthur Weasley had had so little.

“Turn around,” Draco instructed interrupting her reverie. There on the same wall as the door they had entered through was the portrait of a young man whose face had become all too familiar; Armand Malfoy. “May I introduce my illustrious ancestor,” Draco said wryly lifting his arm in a sweeping gesture to indicate the portrait, as if she would not have known immediately which one was his eleventh century forbear.

“Good evening Draco,” the portrait greeted in the rich baritone that Hermione was now very familiar with.

“Sir,” Draco greeted politely, “may I introduce my girlfriend Hermione.”

“Good evening Hermione,” the blond portrait greeted with a fleeting hint of weariness in his gaze.

“Good evening Sir,” Hermione returned the platitude.

“Hermione would like to ask you a few questions if you will allow?” Draco asked.

“I will allow her to ask,” Armand responded, “whether I chose to answer will depend entirely on what she wishes to know.”

_Spoken like a true Malfoy_ , Hermione inwardly intoned.

“Well?” Armand asked with an air of impatience that suggested he had somewhere better to be.

For a moment Hermione didn’t speak, _how should she phrase this?_

“I came across a rare and unusual book,” Hermione began watching as the man in the portrait visibly tensed and passed his accusing glare to Draco, “ it had the title, ‘Eawynn and Armand’. I have looked everywhere, searched all manner of places, but no where can I find what became of Eawynn of Mercia.”

“And what interest do you have in Eawynn?” Armand asked eyeing Hermione speculatively.

Hermione sighed, _here goes,_ she thought;

“A seer told me;‘you will have a lover who you will be afraid to acknowledge. Your love will mirror that of his ancestor. It will be as great a love as Eawynn and Armand and it will change the Wizarding World. Together there is nothing you and he can not achieve, if you open your heart to him and put aside all that you think you know.’” Hermione confessed.

“I see,” Armand responded. Hermione had the distinct impression that Draco’s ancestor was stalling for time. After a pause that seemed to stretch on for aeons he finally responded,

“And did you acknowledge him? Did you show the world that my descendant was worthy of your love?”

“Oh I did and I’m sure the press will ensure the whole Wizarding World will know by tomorrow.” Hermione replied. Suddenly Armand’s entire demeanour changed. It was as if Hermione had passed some test she had not been aware of. The blond in the portrait smiled at her.

“Good,” he said, “then I would like you to meet my wife.”Hermione was confused, unsure why Emma was relevant to this at all. Armand held out his hand for someone to join him. The woman entered the portrait as if she had walked through Hermione and Draco. With her back to them she joined her husband, who kissed her tenderly as she bent down to greet him where he sat. “Emma,” Armand said calmly, “there is a young lady here who I would like you to meet.” As he said this the woman turned to face them. Hermione gasped.

“Eawynn?” Hermione questioned.

The other woman smiled reflectively.

“It has been almost a millennia since anyone has called me by that name,” she replied.

“But I saw you executed,” Hermione protested.

“You saw what my husband wanted the world to see.” Eawynn/Emma told her.

“How?...Why?” Asked Hermione, reduced to single word interrogatives.

“The why is simple,” Armand interrupted, ”it was because I loved her and I would not see her falsely accused of treachery to fuel the ambitions of a foolish and arrogant man.”

Hermione looked confused so Armand continued to explain.

“Earl Edwin planned a rebellion against my lord king, when Eawynn became aware of this she sought to warn me but before she could Edwin used his power to imprison her turning the accusation of treason on Eawynn herself but he had not recognised one thing. That Eawynn had a power he could not understand and so she got a message to me.”

“But why didn’t you escape?” Hermione asked turning now to the witch at Armand’s side.

“Because I couldn’t and even if I had been able I would not have.” Eawynn explained, “had I fled Edwin would have been alerted to the fact his plan would reach the ears of the King and,” she said, “as a muggle-born witch I had had no one to teach me how to apparate. In my early teens a local wise woman had taken me under her wing, taught me a few useful charms and a little transfiguration but nothing more. It had been enough to help me control my magic to stop the accidental magic that had become increasingly difficult to explain away. Then I met Armand. It was the first time I realised there were others like myself.”

“Muggle-born witches and wizards were terribly rare,” Armand said, taking up the narrative, “it was even rarer for them to survive to adulthood. Usually a combination of ignorance and superstition meant they died young. I had never met a muggle-born witch before and I was fascinated. Although some in the wizarding community claimed that muggle-born were abhorrations there was nothing like the later prejudice...”

“You digress my dear,” Eawynn interrupted, “what he means to say is simply that he saved me because he couldn’t help himself and as for the how. Well as I could not apparate myself he took me from the pyre. It was a reckless thing to do,” she said looking at her husband with a mixture of fondness and chastisement, “but I have long since forgiven him.”

“Then how did you become Emma?” Hermione asked.

“I took on the guise of Emma of Normandy because I needed to hide. Edwin’s intrigues eventually cost him his life and when he was gone I returned with my husband to Malfoy manor. Few knew my story and even fewer would recognise my face but we bound our heirs to secrecy.” Eawynn turned and smiled fondly at Draco. “You always reminded me of Armand she told him and now I think I see why,” she said looking at the younger couples joined hands. “Cherish him,” she told Hermione, “he is a better man than most know and with you at his side he will flourish.”

Hermione stood there stunned. It was a moment before she remembered her manners.

“Thank you, I will,” she promised as Draco began to lead her gently from the room. They entered asmall sitting room, where the house elves had clearly laid out tea for the two of them. Hermione took her seat in silence as she reflected on what she had learnt. Armand Malfoy had not killed Eawynn, nor had he betrayed her. He had loved the muggle-born witch beyond reason. Loved her so much he risked his own life to apparate her from the pyre. The secret of house Malfoy was not brutal or cruel it was love. Armand had loved Eawynn so much that he had taken her to Normandy and reinvented her as his wife. Emma Malfoy was in fact Eawynn and the Malfoy’s were descended from a muggle-born witch, a secret that for generations had been closely guarded. Armand and Eawynn were a witchand wizard who had fallen in love even though they were from opposite sides of the divide. Now she understood what Sybill Trelawney had meant when she had told her ‘your love will mirror that of his ancestor,’ Hermione had come to love Draco across the lines that divided their society and it was their job to bring the world together.

“What now Granger?” Draco asked her breaking her reverie.

“We have a world to change,” she informed him, before she smirked mischievously, “but the world can wait until tomorrow. I have other plans for you tonight Mr. Malfoy,” she teased as she launched herself across the gap between them.

Draco chuckled as he drew her to him and kissed her deeply.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that’s all folks. Thank you if you have read this far, left kudos or comments. This piece was an experiment to write something different to the usual tropes using only a fixed start and end point and to see what happened in the middle. I hope you enjoyed this please leave comments if you haven’t already done so.


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